“You like me treating you like a whore, a little white married slut?” He growled in my ear as his fingertips teased my slit. I didn’t answer him...but instead slid my hands up his strong thighs to his crotch, stroking his big cock through his jeans. “Answer me, bitch! Do you want this black cock or not?” He said roughly…I moaned out “Yes! Yes, oh my… yes, I want you. I want your big black cock” I begged him almost in tears as the twins laughed and called me a white slut. I needed a huge black. I have the young Crown Prince Mustapha, who is now three years old; I have decreed that my half brother, Mahmoud be second in line and he is nearly three; I have two other sons of my own. How many more do I need?" Master, it is as the Master wishes. If he wishes more, then more there shall be. If not, then so be it," replied the Head of Protocol.That was the nearest the Emir would get to approval, he supposed. It was difficult to get an answer to a question here. Mostly the answers he was given. The soft knock on her office door snapped her out a delightful memory of a time early in her marriage when her husband wouldn’t let her alone. The memories had aroused her but, unfortunately, she had no way of doing anything about that. She sighed softly, shook her head to clear it, and said, ‘Come in!’ Bobby Draper opened the door and hobbled in. She smiled at him. Bobby was a good student and was always very pleasant and polite. He was also kind of cute. He had taken an Emergency Medical. Victoria’s eyes grew a bit wide and she took in the boy who struck her as beautiful. She experienced an unusual sensation of shyness, but as usual, curiosity overrode all else, and she stepped up the boy and conjured up all the subtlety she was capable of, and asked him, ‘Who are you?’ The boy turned to find the source of the girls’ voice, and found a wild child with long blonde hair with bright blue eyes that were gazing at him with an intensity he wasn’t comfortable with. ‘I’m John Turner.’.